Brothers
by datawolf39
Summary: John comes home feeling crappy and Sherlock and Mycroft surprisingly make it better. Friendship fic. T for certain themes.


It had been a horrible day. No strike that it had been a awful week that had culminated with horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad day and all John wanted was for it all to be a distant memory that he could forget.

As he rode in the cab back from the surgery where he worked, he planned out what he would do as soon as he reached the flat. He would go into the living room and tell Sherlock that under no circumstances save the collapse of 221 on Baker Street was he to be disturbed.

Sherlock was many things but he wasn't stupid. He always understood when John was deadly serious and at times like that Sherlock knew that he had to do what John said because it was a matter of self-preservation at that point and despite what a lot of people tended to think Sherlock did possess a sense of self-preservation underdeveloped perhaps but it definitely existed.

After that he would go into his room and go to bed to sleep away the rest of this miserable week. Even though it was only five in the afternoon he felt as tired as he would have if he had ran ten miles across the London rooftops (yes he did indeed know what that felt like since he had done that but at the time he was high on adrenaline and that had definitely helped him wait until he had reached his chair in the sitting room before he had collapsed) .

The first inkling that John had that things would not be going according to his plan was the fact that Mycroft was in the sitting room when he arrived.

Sherlock and the older Holmes weren't talking. At least not aloud. Both of them were simply staring daggers at one another and conversing in that way since apparently they were both fluent in glare.

Most days this would not bother John and he would be content to go about his business pleased that they were not disturbing others because of the sibling rivalry that they had going on. Some days he even found it funny that two of them with all their brain power still were bound by the unwritten laws of siblings frankly it seemed to mundane for them. Sure the consequences of such spats were on a larger scale but the point still stood.

But today his attitude was colored by the exhaustion and the other emotions that were churning about inside him. They just didn't see how good that they had it. At least both of them had a sibling that wasn't sloshed every time that they saw one another. At least they could spend more than a few minutes in the others presence without coming to blows. John knew that there had been a rough patch for the Holmes brothers when Sherlock had been addicted to drugs but in the end Mycroft got him back. John had long since lost hope of repairing his relationship with his sister but he had never stopped trying and that was just one of the things that had put him in the emotional turmoil that he was in at this very moment.

The anger that he felt at this was the straw that broke the camel's back. The wall that John had erected around himself broke and he could feel himself getting lost in the whirlwind of emotion that he had been trying to hold back. Suddenly he realized that the attentions of the two brothers had shifted while he had been thinking. Before he could embarrass himself further he rushed to his room and threw his body onto the bed desperate to keep himself from giving in to the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes.

Downstairs both Mycroft and Sherlock were looking at one another with confusion etched upon both of their faces. John had acted so out of character in his actions. The man was usually calm and collected and even in anger he was more polite than some people were on the everyday basis.

Sherlock got up from the sofa and headed toward the steps. When Mycroft caught his eye the younger nodded slightly to advertise that he was okay with his brother joining him. Mycroft put aside his umbrella and joined Sherlock on the stairs. Both of them were going up for different reasons. Sherlock was going up because John was his friend and he wanted to help him. Mycroft was going up because the doctor was his brother's friend and Sherlock need him at his best.

"Doctor Watson," Mycroft said as he entered the room. John was lying face down but the moment he registered the presence of others he sat up to face them. He was angry.

"For God's sake Mycroft call me John! We've reached that point haven't we!? You kidnap me once a month and it's still Doctor Watson this and Doctor Watson that! Should I start calling you Mister Holmes then!?" Mycroft startled at this. For some reason he found the idea of John not using his given name as some sort of repercussion and idea of John addressing him as Mister Holmes like one of his numerous employees didn't exactly sit well with him either.

But John was not finished. "Is something so wrong with my boring old name!? Not all of us can have unique names. Or maybe you hate me. Is that it?" John really wished that he could stem the flow of his words but it was not possible what with the fact that he was saying utter nonsense and he hated not being in control of himself. There was also the fact that he didn't really mind all of things that he had complained about. At least he didn't think that he did.

"John... tell me what happened." Sherlock said. He sounded uncertain and that was the true tipping point. For some reason he was pushed over the edge by that one innocently posed question of a statement.

"What's happened to me?" John mocked with a bitter laugh. "The Great Sherlock Holmes finally doesn't know something. Allow me to enlighten you then." Here he could see that Sherlock had an expression of veiled hurt on his features but there was no way to stem the stuff that was coming from his mouth. It was like he was being possessed by a foreign entity and they were revealing the very things that he sought to keep secret. "I hate my life. There I said it. I should have ended it all in that bloody closet of a flat that I used to live in. Or better yet I should have died in that desert so that I would have at least done something useful for once. I'm a doctor but I can't do what I trained to do thanks to this tremor and because of that I am stuck treating colds and the flu. I have no family except a sister that is so sloshed most of the time that I don' t that she would even know who I was if I showed up at her dingy little flat. My love life is nonexistent and my best friend is a want-to-be sociopath. Oh and just to ice that unfortunate life I have a posh kidnapper that won't even call me by my first name!" he didn't even mention the fact that there was a criminal mastermind that used him as bait once before and he doubts that the man would hesitate to do so again.

"I'm boring and useless. A waste of space sucking up oxygen on a over-populated planet." John laughed he really was a pitiful person. He wondered what anyone saw in him. He was just a broken man invalidated from the one place that he had really belonged and that was the truth of it all. He really was better off dead. He looked over at his beside table where he kept his gun and wondered what it would feel like if he were to pull the trigger as the cold metal of the barrel was positioned at his temple. Logically it shouldn't hurt because death should be instantaneous but how did one really know that before they tried it themselves. Maybe a bullet to the heart would be better. It would be far more interesting that way although it would be messy with all the blood that would leak out.

Perhaps a knife would be better way to do it. He had hurt many people in his life and it would only be correct karma wise if he were to live out his final moments in pain plus that method had the benefit of being far more interesting than death by a bullet and he had a high tolerance for pain so it would all be fine. He wondered how many cuts the human body could withstand before it gave up providing that no arteries were hit. He could do it he was a doctor after all and he was sure that even with shaking hands he would be able to avoid the arteries.

So focused was he on his thoughts that he had actually forgotten that he had other people watching him. Seeing as they were two of the most observant men on the planet it was a bad idea to forget that they were there when you thought about certain things. The other thing that happened as a result of his lack of focus was the fact that Sherlock had come in front of him and he had failed to notice that until a fist made contact with his jaw.

Sherlock and Mycroft had followed John's thoughts as well as he had followed what had been spoken and neither of them appreciated that the man that was contemplating suicide. They had both seen the way that John had looked at the gun drawer and the way that he had made invisible thin lines with his right hand and onto the left arm while muttering numbers. It was at that part where Sherlock could no longer contain himself and he had to act. He had punched his friend. Hard. Quite frankly Mycroft was glad that he had for he doubted that he himself would have been able to stand by while the doctor thought of more and more gruesome ways by which to dispose of himself.

The air in the room could have vacated and none of them would have known since at the moment of impact it seemed as though all three of them stopped breathing.

"Ow," John said in delayed reaction to the punch that he had received. He rubbed his face in a soothing circle and he could taste blood from the split lip he had as a result of the punch.

"John sometimes I wonder if you even use the gray matter inside your skull! Sometimes you can be such an idiot!"

John looked highly confused and Mycroft had to wonder if the doctor was really so sure that all of the things that he spouted were too true to protest or if he was simply in shock. Either way the embodiment of the British Government decided that at this point it was imperative that he intervene because if he let his brother keep talking the situation would surly get worse in a matter of moments since it was obvious that his brother wasn't good with emotions to begin with and added to that was the fact that he was very emotional right now and it was simply a recipe for disaster.

"John what my brother is trying to say," here he ignored a glare from Sherlock, "is that you are a fool if you believe that any of what you said is true in the manner that you have expressed it. Aside from your sister everything else that you have said is wildly inaccurate. You are a very good man John Watson and the world is a better place for having you in it. Just think of all the people that would be worse off if you hadn't appeared in my brother's life. Poor Mrs. Hudson would not have been able to cope with it at all without you as a barrier no matter how much she loved him. Let's not forget Detective Inspector Lestrade either. I can only imagine that you have kept him from an early grave due to Sherlock-induced stress. I also think that those people that you have treated at your work place do indeed appreciate it." Mycroft saw the look John was giving him and hurried to add to his speech. "You see you have made such a difference in the life of the people that surround my brother and I am certain that if that is something that you have done recently there have to be other people that you have touched similarly. Also there was the issue that you raised about family. I like to think that I could consider you as such since I think that you have become close enough to Sherlock that we are unofficially brothers. I never meant to offend you by the use of your title though since it is obvious that you feel that way I do apologize.

"Thanks for that mate. Now I have a whole new set of problems to deal with. I have been technically adopted by a family that is crazier than my original one." John sighed dramatically "I can only hope that I am spared the treatment that you give Sherlock and of course, the family reunions and Christmas dinners. I think that you two are the most I can handle." John finished. His words made it sound as though he thought himself unfortunate but his expression contradicted that. He was really happy. He knew that these two men loathed sentiment and they had both let down their guard just to make him feel better.

"I'm sorry," he said looking at the ground. Now that he was calmer he was suddenly very embarrassed.

Sherlock took a breath. "It was a bit not good John but I won't hold it against you if," John had known that there would be a catch there always was. "If you need to breakdown again on the chance that I don't notice please say something before things spiral this far out of control. If I am unavailable go to," here he shuddered "Mycroft I'm sure he can help in a crisis."

John was shocked for a moment that, that was all that Sherlock wanted from him. He smiled he had long known that Sherlock was not truly a sociopath and that he merely had a hard time understanding emotions. Maybe being an honorary Holmes wouldn't be so bad, after all, if he used the name John was derived from it wasn't too bad. Johnathan Holmes did have a nice ring to it well aside from the fact that everyone would assume that he had married Sherlock and taken his name. Well maybe he should stick with John Watson after all it would be less of a hassle that way.

**A/N hope you enjoyed this little thing. Don't really know where it came from but I thought it was good enough to post.**


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